Strange Happenings
by Proud To Be A Gryffindor
Summary: What did Sargent Fisher think of Sirius's escape from Azkaban? Based off of J.K. Rowling's short story. One shot.


"And remember, Elvendork, it's unisex!" the Potter boy called as the motorcycle took off into the sky. Sargent Fisher looked at his partner PC Anderson.

"I just dreamed that. Two boys did not make our car fly, there were no Witch-men, and we never chased a motorcycle. It was an elaborate dream."

Anderson nodded. "Let's go," he said.

The two men inched back along the wall to the car, backed up, and drove back to where they started, wiping their minds of the whole experience, thus proving Stan Shunpike correct. 'Muggles? They don' notice nuffink, do they, Ern'?'

* * *

It was your normal day in Azkaban, not much had changed for the past twelve years that Sirius had been there. Breakfast, Dementors, stare at the wall, human guards, Dementors, Dinner, Dementors, sleep. Boring, and when the Dementors made their rounds, freezing. It was stare at the wall time, when he heard the sound of wizards approaching. Was it really that time already, he had just had breakfast! As he looked through the bars, trying to peer down the corridor, he saw a lime green bowler hat bob 'round the corner, by where Rookwood was. In a short while, the small party from the Ministry stopped by his cell.

Sirius recognized one of them, the one in the ridiculous hat, as Cornelius Fudge, the current Minister of Magic.

"Fudge, how are you today?" Sirius nodded at the plump man. He had to suppress a chuckle at how unnerved the Minister was by his seeming sanity. Then he noticed it. The man had a newspaper! Newspapers equal crossword puzzle. Crossword puzzles meant that the boredom was relieved for a short while.

"I'm doing well..." Fudge's eyes darted around for an escape rout.

"Are you done with your newspaper? I quite miss doing the crossword."

Fudge blinked. Sirius grinned. This was too fun.

"Um, um, of course, here you go!" the day's edition of the Daily Prophet was hurriedly passed through the iron bars, then the pinstriped suite with a ball full of flobberworms on top almost ran down the corridor, followed quickly by his minions. Sirius smirked.

Sitting down on his bed, the gaunt prisoner opened the Prophet. He froze. What he was looking at seemed innocent enough, a picture of a family posed in front of the great pyramid, but to one of the four famous Marauders, this was not a nice family photo. On the youngest redhead's shoulder perched a rat. A rat with only four toes on one of it's paws. A rat who in happier times was named by his three loyal friends 'Wormtail'. An amimalistic howl of rage tore from Sirius Black. The dirty, traitorous rat!

As the grief consumed man lay down on his bed to plot his escape, he fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

"He's at Hogwarts... he's at Hogwarts," the young Auror patrolling the dank corridors of Azkaban heard the mumbling coming from one of the highest security cells in the world. Glancing through the bars, he saw the infamous Sirius Orion Black tossing and turning on his thin mattress. "He's at Hogwarts... he's at Hogwarts." The Auror shivered and moved on.

Later that night, when the dinner was brought, a large black dog slipped passed the guards. As the alarm was raised, the same dog swam the sea to dry land.

* * *

"...Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hotline has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately." Matthew Fisher looked at the screen intently as it show an unkempt looking man with elbow length hair. There was something familiar about him, like he'd seen him somewhere, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. His self brain-picking was interrupted by the arrival of his wife Isabelle with the groceries. He stepped out to the car the help her remove the produce from the boot. He and his wife dumped their armloads onto the kitchen table and returned for more. When he reached the door, he saw a shaggy black dog sitting nicely on the step. It looked up at him with big brown puppy dog eyes, quite clearly saying "Please feed me". Fisher steeled himself then turned away, when his four year old grandson came down the stairs. Little John took one look at the large beast and ran to hug it.

"Puppy!" he squealed. "Can we keep him Grandpa? Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease?" Both dog and child looked up at the Sargent with identical puppy eyes. Isabelle took that moment to walk into the living room.

"Aw," she cooed. "Of course you can. He's so cute!" She bent down to rub behind his ears. Fisher sighed. He knew he would be fighting a loosing battle if he protested.

"Very well," he conceded. "Let's get him fed. What will you call him?" he asked as he lead the way back to the kitchen.

"Snuffles!" the little boy declared. The newly dubbed Snuffles barked his approval.

"Arff!" Fisher couldn't help himself, he smiled.

* * *

That evening, the retired police Sargent reclined in his favorite chair, with Snuffles by his side. He looked down at the animal.

"You know, I might as well tell you, as you're not going to make fun off me." The dog cocked his head, as if he was saying "I'm not?".

Fisher chuckled. "There was a warning on the telly this morning about a mass murder, Sirius Black." Snuffles snorted. Mass murderer indeed. Fisher continued on as if he hadn't heard the animagus. In all truth, he probably hadn't "I thought I had seen him before, and I just realized where I knew him from. When I was still working, Anderson and I chased two boys on a motorcycle up an ally." Snuffles perked up. That sounded familiar. "They were very impertinent, but just as we were about to arrest them, they pulled out drumsticks and our car floated! Actually floated! Then they got on their motorcycle and flew off into the night." The dog gave him a look that said 'motorcycles don't fly'. Fisher snorted. "Well this one did. One of the boys said his name was Sirius Black. The same as that guy on the telly." Snuffles tilted his head again. "Oh look at me, I'm talking to a dog about things that probably didn't happen."

Sirius gave a small doggy smile. He remembered that. One of the men on brooms was Smith, a dangerous Death Eater. He got up and stretched. Time to get a move on, he had to find Harry then get to Hogwarts. Mission Kill Peter: Underway.

* * *

**Random thought that came into my head, what would Sargent Fisher think of the warning about Sirius Black, given his earlier encounter with him. This is based off of the short story by J.K. Rowling and The Prisoner of Azkaban. I own neither. I made up Fisher family. I hope you enjoyed that, and please go read my other, longer stories. The Black Twins: Hogwarts Here We Come! and Alone Yet Not Alone. I hope you enjoy them as well.****~Ginny**


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